One Month
by HazyReality
Summary: "Nobody deserves to die alone. Not even you, Malfoy." Draco Malfoy is diagnosed with terminal cancer and has been informed that he has one month left to live. Wizards are not supposed to get cancer, but he is dying from it and must come to terms with that fact. With Hermione's help, he may be able to accept his impending death.


_April 4, 2003_

"What do you mean cancer?" Draco roared. "Malfoys do not get cancer!"

Hermione gave the man in front of her a withering look. "I'm sorry Malfoy, but you are certifiably dying. You have a month to live if you're lucky."

"Wizards don't get cancer!"

Hermione sighed and explained the information again. "Wizards traditionally do not get cancer because of the magic that runs through their veins. Due to increased exposure to muggle advancements, cancer has been seen in wizarding communities."

For the first time since Hermione had told him, Draco did not say anything. He was finally allowing himself to absorb the new information. He had cancer and he was going to die in a month. Maybe less.

"So what can you do for me, Granger?" Draco asked.

"Nothing, really," Hermione admitted. "The wizarding world hasn't developed any cures for cancer. I can only really give you pain potions. At this point, your treatments are palliative."

"Which means?"

"Making sure you die in the most comfortable way possible."

* * *

 _March 28, 2003_

Draco had been feeling awful for several months. It was as if a never-ending flu had been following him around. He had only been into work for three weeks in the past four months because of how awful he felt. His secretary had been pestering him to go see his primary care healer. She had finally worn him down, and now he was sitting in the office of Hermione Jean Granger.

She had been the brightest witch in their year, and now she was the best healer in St. Mungo's. Naturally, she would be the one Draco would choose to oversee his health. Blood purity be damned, she was an excellent healer. Being completely honest, they often squabbled during their appointments. This time, however, Draco had no energy to argue.

Hermione walked into the room with quill and clipboard in hand. She had to do a double take when she saw Draco. His normally pale skin seemed extremely tan in comparison to the sickly hue he had currently. His eyes were red, and he blew his nose loudly into a tissue.

"Granger, I'm feeling awful," Malfoy whined.

"Malfoy, you're whining," Hermione sighed.

"Malfoys do not whine."

"Well you certainly are."

Draco tried to muster up a retort before being overtaken by a fit of coughing. Hermione was about to prescribe him a standard flu potion, until she noticed some blood had been coughed up onto his hand.

"How long have you been sick, Malfoy," Hermione asked.

"Since at least November," Draco wheezed.

"Same symptoms?"

"Yes."

Hermione turned to the cupboards that were in her office. She fished around for a vial and stopper before walking up to Draco.

"I'm going to need to take some blood," Hermione said.

Draco tried to argue that his blood was too valuable to just be taken, but he was wracked with another cough. Hermione levitated his arm in front of her and made a tiny incision. Blood dripped into the vial and when she was satisfied, Hermione corked it.

"I'll have results for you in about a week," Hermione announced.

She left the room without prescribing Draco anything to help his symptoms and he was left cursing her very existence. Hermione, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling she knew what was wrong. The man that had been her childhood enemy would not be happy with the results if they were correct.

* * *

 _April 7, 2003_

"Granger! I need to talk to you!" Malfoy yelled.

He barged into her office and found himself face to face with a shocked, heavily pregnant witch, and a furious Hermione Granger. She turned on him like a mother tiger would somebody going after her cubs.

"Draco Malfoy!" Hermione boomed. "You will get out of this office right now and sit in the waiting area! When I am good and ready, I will get you. I don't care that you're dying! I have patients!"

Draco shrank back and nodded. His head had turned into a bobblehead as he walked. He had forgotten that his primary care provider had teeth and claws that she was not afraid to use. He slowly walked back to the waiting area and took a seat. He had spent the weekend locked away in the manor dwelling on the fact he was dying.

It had hit him during those forty-eight hours that he had less time than he was willing to admit. Even when he had been at risk of being killed by Voldemort over a minor indiscretion, he had never thought that his time was limited. He knew that there would likely be a tomorrow and a next week.

An unknown amount of time passed before Draco saw Hermione appear in the waiting area. She gave him an exasperated smile before motioning that he should follow. Draco jumped up and stopped. Vertigo hit him suddenly and he thought his head was going to explode. Hermione was there in an instant.

"I've got you," she whispered.

Hermione put one of his arms around her shoulders and led him towards her office. Slowly, the vertigo began to ease up and Draco felt almost normal. Dying was not fun.

When they were in her office, Hermione set Draco down in a chair and closed the door. She pulled up a chair and sat across from him, maintaining a professional distance. She looked him over, up and down, before clearing her throat.

"So, what can I help you with?" Hermione asked.

"I need something to help me feel better," Draco said.

"There's nothing that will cure you."

Draco gave her a withering look. "I get that. I've had all weekend to dwell on the fact I'm dying. I need something for the headaches and vertigo. This is a new symptom that appeared on Sunday morning."

Hermione took a moment to collect her thoughts before speaking. "I'm going to be frank with you since you're not just any patient of mine. You're going to be experiencing a lot of new symptoms as time goes on. Your body will be starting to shut down as well. You'll sleep more, you'll eat less. You're going to have issues going to the bathroom. All this is natural. When you're ready we can move you into the hospice ward of St. Mungo's."

"I don't want to die, Granger," Draco whispered.

"None of us do."

"What am I going to do? Who is going to run my family's company?"

"These are things you'll need to figure out," Hermione said. "Do you have a will?"

Draco blanched as he realized that he likely had none of the things he'd need. He was no longer somebody that was focusing on living. He was a dying person.

"I don't have a will," Draco admitted. "I don't know about any of the legal things involved with dying."

"Ah," Hermione said. "Well that does make it a bit more complicated since we don't exactly know how long you have."

"Well what are you going to do about it?"

"Me? You're the one who's dying," Hermione bit back.

"You have to be nice to dying people, Granger," Draco said.

"Do you have any family?"

"No, they're all in prison and I'm not allowed to contact them.

Hermione's heart broke a little bit. Draco was all alone in his family manor. For all intents and purposes, he was dying alone. Even if they were not friends, and being completely honest they were barely civil, Hermione was not going to let Draco die without any support.

"You've got about a month to live," Hermione said.

"Stop reminding me," Draco growled. "I get it, I'm dying. I don't want to think about it every moment of the day."

"Let me finish. I'm going to take time off from work and I'm going to help you."

"I don't need your pity."

Hermione put a hand in front of her face. "I'm not pitying you. You're going to need help. If I leave you as is, you're going to botch up this dying thing."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. When does your time off start?"

"Tomorrow."

"Oh."

"I'm the head healer in the department. I'll claim that you're a close friend who is dying and I need to be with you," Hermione announced.

Draco looked at her, seriously impressed. "You're going to lie for me? The person you hate?"

"Nobody deserves to die alone. Not even you, Malfoy."

* * *

 _April 8, 2003_

Hermione appeared at Malfoy Manor bright and early the day after she had told Draco that she would be taking a time off to spend with him. She was beginning to regret this decision. The angel on Hermione's shoulder reminded her that Draco was alone in the world. He had frequently complained to her during run of the mill check-ups that his friends no longer wanted to see him. The devil on Hermione's shoulder told her that she should not care about Malfoy. He had tormented her for years.

Being completely honest, the decision to take time off had been completely spur of the moment. Hermione never made spontaneous decisions, and she was hoping that she would not regret the one time she did. She did not, however, have long to dwell on whether the choice was right or not, because the doors swung open and revealed Malfoy.

"Are you going to stand there or come in?" Draco asked. "I'm not dead yet so stop gaping at me like I'm a walking corpse."

"I'm coming in," Hermione answered.

When Hemione was standing in the manor's atrium, the pair stared at each other awkwardly. Hermione focused on not thinking of what had happened to her in this building. Draco tried not to think of the fact that the witch standing in front of him was probably miserable, remembering what had happened to her.

"So," Draco began. "What are you here for?"

Hermione snapped to attention. "We're going to take you to see an estates lawyer. You need a will so that there's no trying to figure out what to do with your things."

"I don't see why my stuff needs to be given to anybody."

"I mean it doesn't, but then the Ministry will seize it and do whatever they want with your estate."

Malfoy huffed but did not try to argue. He decided that it would be easier to go along with Hermione's plans, if for no other reason than the fact it took his mind off his impending death.

"Shall we then?" Hermione said. "I set up an appointment for you at nine-fifteen and it is nine right now. I'll apparate us there."

Draco said nothing and lightly took hold of the witch's arm. He had given up his blood purity ideals at some point between the war and now. His hesitance to touch her came from the fact that they had never been close, never on familiar terms. It seemed odd to start now. Perhaps a bit morbid too.

With a "pop", they were in an office filled with elderly witches and wizards. Draco felt like a sore thumb sticking out. Hopefully this would go quickly, and painlessly.

* * *

 _April 14, 2003_

Hermione had been coming over on a daily basis. Sometimes her visits were brief, while other times she would impose for hours. Draco tried his best to resent her, but it was hard. He had nobody around and she was making this whole dying thing a lot less lonely. Being less lonely also meant he had a near constant headache as she pestered him about little things.

Today, they were in the manor's library. Draco had been trying to read his own book, but Hermione had ruined that by reading passages to him aloud of her own tome. Anytime she found something interesting it would be followed by "Look at this…" or "Did you know that…". Then she would read him entire pages of text.

Draco had finally had enough. "Granger, I am trying to read this book. A little quiet."

Hermione huffed and bit back her retort. For the first time in her life, she was having a reading session with someone who was intellectually on par with her. She thought that Draco might enjoy hearing what she found interesting.

After settling into a comfortable silence, the pair read together for hours. The only sounds were that of paper turning and cups being drunk from. It was a peaceful way to spend the day.

* * *

 _April 16, 2003_

Hermione apparated directly into Malfoy manor. Draco had adjusted the wards to allow for that so that he did not have to keep answering the door. Hermione was more than capable of letting herself in. This morning, an uncomfortable feeling hit Hermione as soon as she appeared inside the manor.

There was no Malfoy waiting for her, an annoying smirk planted on his face. There was no sound anywhere. Hermione was about to start calling out when a tiny house elf appeared. Hermione jumped back when it materialized in front of her. It was not the sudden appearance of the elf that startled her, it was what it was wearing. The small creature had on a pair of tiny shoes.

"You're wearing shoes," Hermione gaped.

The elf gave the witch a look. "All Malfoy elves are free elves. But Miss, that is not why I am here. You need to follow me right away!"

Before Hermione could react, the elf took her hand and began dragging her through the manor. They passed by several rooms before stopping in front of a door that was slightly ajar. Hermione immediately knew that this was Draco's room. A sick feeling settled over her before she even saw what was inside.

The elf popped away, presumably back into the room. Hermione took a deep breath, steeling herself, before opening the door. The sight that appeared in front of her was simultaneously better and worse than she had been expecting. It was obvious Malfoy was alive, which was good, but his current condition was significantly worse than it had been the day before.

What Hermione saw before her was Malfoy, his platinum blonde hair slicked with sweat. He was on the marble floor of his bedroom, in a pool of what appeared to be, and smelled like, his own vomit and urine. His head lolled to the side in a limp, ragdoll fashion. He looked barely alive. Several house elves were trying to do something and failing.

Hermione crossed the room in a few quick strides and picked up Draco's hand. It was clammy, but it had some warmth to it. She shook his shoulder and got a quiet moan in response. She shook harder. The elves looked concerned at this behaviour but did not try to stop her.

After a while, Hermione realized that the man in front of her was not going to be getting up on his own. She told the house elves to keep an eye on him and that she would be back in a moment.

Hermione apparated back to her flat and rifled through her potion cabinet. She found one for dealing with dehydration, another to balance electrolytes, and one sleeping draught for just in case purposed. In under three minutes, she was back in Draco's bedroom and helping the elves.

The first thing to do was to get him cleaned up. She cast a scourgify at the floor and mattress. Hermione asked a house elf to bring new pajamas and began to unbutton the current ones Draco was wearing. The man was barely conscious, and Hermione wanted to get him cleaned up as quickly as possible.

Hermione had gotten Draco down to his boxers before she realized what she had committed to doing. A blush covered her face as she realized that she was looking at a nearly naked Draco Malfoy. She cast a glance over him and realized that he was indeed just as handsome under his clothes as she had imagined during her moments of weakness.

Shaking her head, Hermione cleared away thoughts of Draco. He was a dying man and there was no point in getting involved if her heart was only going to get broken. Hermione focused on getting him back into clean clothes and spent as little time looking at him as possible.

Once Malfoy was back in bed and propped up, Hermione forced two potions down his throat. Once the second one was down, Malfoy sputtered and came to. Hermione was able to breathe a sigh of relief when he became more alert.

"What happened?" Draco demanded.

"You had a bit of an accident," Hermione said. "I fixed you up and now you're back in bed. You need to rest today."

"I know exactly what happened. What you're saying is that you cleaned up my vomit and piss?"

"Malfoy, it doesn't matter what I did. Plus, your elves were very helpful."

Draco looked at the witch in front of him for what could have been minutes of hours. He was seeing her in a new light. She was not just the annoying bookworm who caused endless headaches for him in school. She was a person who had become a healer because she was so good at caring for others. Now, he was lucky enough that her care was being directed at him.

"I'm really dying, aren't I, Granger," Draco said simply.

"I mean you are terminal," Hermione replied. "But we don't know how long you've got. Plus, you could have eaten something that irritated your stomach."

"Granger look at me. Normal people do not vomit and piss on themselves from eating some bad food. My body is shutting down on me like you said it would, isn't it?"

Hermione sat on the bed and sighed deeply. "It seems like that's the most likely answer. I'm sorry, Malfoy."

In a moment of extremely un-Malfoy behaviour, he took Hermione's hand and held it in his. He just needed some human contact and she was the only other person in the room. It felt so delicate and fit so perfectly in his much larger hand. It was almost as if they were made to hold each other. He had to hold back from snorting so that he would not have to explain what he was thinking. There was no point in catching feelings for somebody when he would be dead long before he could truly enjoy his time with Hermione.

"Stay here," Draco said quietly.

"Hmm?" Hermione asked.

"Stay here, stay in the manor with me. I don't think I can be here alone if today is any indication. There's spare bedrooms here and we hardly have to see each other."

"Alright, Malfoy, I'll stay."

* * *

 _April 20, 2003_

Draco had another incident of vomiting over himself that morning. Hermione, without a word of protest, cleaned him up once again. This time there had been some blood in the vomit, a sign that his organs were beginning to shut down. Regardless of any bad feelings they had between each other, Hermione did not want Draco to suffer. Nobody deserved the indignity that he was dealing with right now.

Somehow, Draco had managed to find the strength to get up and they were eating lunch together. The long wooden table seemed lonely with just the two of them sitting across from each other on one end.

"I'm moving into the bedroom next to yours," Hermione announced.

Draco raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Can't get enough of me can you, Granger. Are we going to have little midnight meetings?"

"As if. I just want to be nearby in case you need anything."

"Sure you do. You just want to be near me because you can't stand to be apart."

They bantered and teased each other for the rest of the meal. At some point, Draco began to feel tired and worn out. It was becoming increasingly frequent and he told Hermione that he needed to take a nap. He stood up from the table and wobbled a bit as he walked towards his room. Any other day, Draco may have apparated there instead, but he did not want to risk it in his condition.

Sadness washed over Hermione as she watched him retreat. He had deteriorated much more quickly than she had anticipated when the initial diagnosis was given. Despite how much she wanted him to live, she knew it could be only a matter of days now. Maybe a few weeks. Only time knew when it would be the hour to go.

* * *

 _April 22, 2003_

Hermione and Draco were sitting in the manor's gardens, enjoying the late April sunshine. They had tea with them and a stack of books to read. Since Hermione had moved into the manor, this had become their shared pastime. They did not need to talk much but they got to enjoy the company of another person.

Draco had developed a cough yesterday that would not leave him alone. It was a rattling, wheezing cough that sounded like he was trying to cough out a lung. Other than pages turning and cups being lifted, Draco's cough was the only other sound that broke the silence.

"Draco, can you please drink some tea or something. That cough is driving me mad!" Hermione huffed.

"Well excuse me," Draco snapped back. "I can't help the fact that I'm dying, and this cough is a new symptom of my impending end. Wait… did you just call me Draco?"

"That is your name isn't it?"

"Well yeah, but I'm Malfoy to you and you're Granger to me."

Hermione considered it for a moment. "I guess I started thinking of you as Draco rather than Malfoy after you asked me to stay. You're an individual person, you know. You're not just your family name."

"We'll see what my maker thinks when I'm dead," Draco half whispered. "I don't think I'm going anywhere good."

Hermione put her book down on the table and turned to face Draco. She reached across and this time she was the one that grabbed his hand. She held his gaze for a while, memorizing every feature on Draco's face. She did not want to forget him when he was gone.

"You are more than your family, Draco," Hermione insisted. "You were a child who had been brainwashed by his family's ideals. You are so much more."

"How do you know?" Draco asked.

"You freed all the Malfoy house elves, you haven't used a single blood-based slur on me since I became your primary healer three years ago, and you have been quite pleasant while I've been staying here."

Draco considered what Hermione had said and found himself smiling despite his best efforts. It was the most genuine compliment he had ever been given, especially considering it was his former enemy who had said it.

Hermione was taken aback by Draco's smile. It was a genuine, happy look. Not a smirk or leer. He was painfully attractive when he smiled, and another pang hit her heart. Despite her best efforts, she was developing feelings for the man in front of her. He was funny, witty, and smart. If not for the fact that he was dying, he might be the perfect man.

An eerily similar thought process was going through Draco's mind. Getting to know Hermione over these past few days had been interesting to say the least. She was much more than he had expected. Draco often found himself sneaking glances at her. She was a truly beautiful woman. If he had more time, he might try to woo her, but the circumstances were wrong.

* * *

 _April 25, 2003_

Today, Draco was too weak to get out of bed without help. Hermione transfigured a chair into a muggle wheelchair and explained to Draco how it worked. She was going to push him around so that he would not be completely stuck inside of his room. He was initially extremely opposed to the idea, until Hermione practically forced him into the seat. He had forgotten how weak he had become and how easy it was to push him around.

Hermione was glad that the manor was all contained to one floor. The upstairs part had not been used since Voldemort's death. It made her job much easier because she did not have to think about stairs. Pushing Malfoy around gave her a good chance to observe him without worrying about him seeing. He had lost more weight and was beginning to look increasingly skeletal. His skin was more translucent than ever, making it seem like Draco was already halfway out of this world.

They were taking a walk through the gardens, talking about the plants, and bickering about the accuracy of a Daily Prophet article. There was some normalcy. At one point they went along the path to the main fountain in the garden. It had not been used in a long time and moss had begun to grow on the statue. It depicted a couple holding hands and looking lovingly into each other's eyes. It seemed inappropriate to have in the manor considering what was known about the Malfoys.

"My great-grandmother had that installed," Draco said. "She loved happy things."

"It's nice," Hermione replied.

"I'm pretty sure the only reason it's still here is because my family was scared that her ghost would come haunt us if it was disturbed."

"I suppose that's one reason to keep it around."

Hermione continued to push the wheelchair around, observing the beautiful flowers.

"I wish spring never had to end," she mused.

"It never has to end for me," Draco joked.

Hermione said nothing and kept pushing the chair. She was glad that Draco's back was to her so that he could not see the tears welling up in her eyes.

* * *

 _April 26, 2003_

Draco and Hermione were enjoying another day in the gardens. It was peaceful, and they had begun to spend as much time as possible there. Draco wanted to enjoy the warm sun as much as he could because he feared that he would soon have to stay inside full time. Hermione wanted to be outside as much as she could so that she could focus on the beauty outside, instead of the fact that the man she was falling for was dying.

They were sitting together on a bench, side by side. They were facing on several beautiful shrubs that the house elves kept maintained. Beyond that was a large open field where butterflies danced amongst the wildflowers.

Hermione leaned over and pointed out something to Draco. He kissed her on the cheek, almost too quick for it to be detected. Hermione knows he did it, however, because of the burning sensation that is left behind on her skin. She turns around and Draco pulls her to him, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

The two of them spent a long time kissing on the bench, as if there were no tomorrow. Perhaps there would not be one.

* * *

 _April 29, 2003_

This was the day that Draco could no longer manage to spend long periods of time outside of his bed. He could stumble to the bathroom, but for all intents and purposes, he was confined to his bed. Everything was sore and now he was vomiting up what seemed like black tar. When he asked Hermione about it, she said it was likely pieces of his stomach lining. His stomach acid was burning him. When he asked if there was anything that would help, she gave him a sad smile and shook her head before giving him a pain potion.

While he was in bed, Draco ran through the memories of the previous day. He had managed to find some hidden strength and moved about the manor on his own. The chair be damned. The gods had decided to bless him with one more day of normalcy it seemed.

Towards the end of the day, he and Hermione had put on an old record, and danced about the ballroom. They spent a carefree evening just enjoying each other. He had fallen truly, madly, deeply, and absolutely in love with this infuriating wish. Whenever he could, he stole kisses from her. Partly because he enjoyed it, and partly because he enjoyed seeing the shocked look on her face when he did it.

In the present moment, Hermione was sitting in a chair next to the bed, reading a book while he read his own. The said no words but held hands, which conveyed more meaning than any utterance ever could.

* * *

 _April 30, 2003_

It was hard for Draco to wake up today. It took a lot of prodding from Hermione to get him to life his head. It felt so heavy and it seemed so much easier to stay asleep. When the thought crossed his mind, he shook himself away. Hermione had said that increased sleep was a sign that his death was looming ever closer. There was no way that he was going to die now, he had too much life to live.

It was another quiet day for the pair. Instead of sitting next to the bed, Hermione lay in it next to Draco. She rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart beat carefully. She was recording the sound in her mind, just like she did with every word he said. She did not want to lose his voice.

Hermione lifted her head and this time it was her that caught Draco in surprise with a kiss. He tried to kiss her back as passionately as he wanted to, but he was just too weak. They settled for pecks every so often instead.

* * *

 _May 1, 2003_

It was too hard for Draco to sit up. His body was really, truly shutting down. He found himself in some kind of in-between state of dreaming and wakefulness. He could hear Hermione's voice, but he was not sure whether he was dreaming or actually hearing it. He had several short periods of lucidity where he was able to speak to her. She was on the bed next to him, holding his hand the entire time.

* * *

 _May 2, 2003_

Today was one of those second wind days. Draco was able to sit up and stay awake for most of the day. He took a brief nap at some point, but he was completely present otherwise.

"How long do you think I've got?" Draco asked.

Hermione's breath hitched in her throat. "Don't ask me that, Draco. You know that I don't have the answer."

"Oh but I think you do, and you're just keeping it from me."

"We both know you don't have long enough, not matter how long it is."

They spent the day talking, reminiscing about their favourite memories. Draco told Hermione about growing up in the Manor before Voldemort's second coming. He had a carefree childhood, for the most part. His parents had been doting and indulgent. It was only when Voldemort had appeared again that things started to change and he began to experience the isolation that he had come to know so well.

Hermione talked about summers at the Burrow and getting to know the Weasleys. They were always good to her, even though she and Ron did not work out. Things had felt awkward because of their breakup so Hermione had kept to herself a lot. She had still seen Harry regularly until a few months ago. Now they only had sporadic meetings.

"You're as lonely as me," Draco teased.

Hermione tried to give him a hard look. "I'm only as lonely as I want to be."

"I'm sorry that I have to go."

"You haven't left yet, we still have some time.

They both knew, that despite their best efforts, they were working around borrowed time at this point.

* * *

 _May 3, 2003_

The day previously had been a good day. Today was a bad day. Draco was nearly impossible to rouse and only spent a few brief periods awake. A lot of the things he said to Hermione were incoherent or gibberish. She faithfully stayed by his side, only letting go of his hand to go to the bathroom. In some ways she was glad he spent a lot of the day asleep, because he was unable to see her cry.

* * *

 _May 4, 2003_

It was one month today since Hermione had delivered the diagnosis. Draco was a bit more lucid than the day before but that was not saying much. He did manage to find the strength to sit up a bit and talk to her.

"I just want you to know something," Draco said.

"What's that?" Hermione asked.

"I love you. I'm in love with you. I feel awful telling you this because I'm dying but I don't think I could handle death without telling you."

"Want to know something crazy? I think I've realized that I love you too."

Draco managed to reach up and pull Hermione to him so that he could kiss her. His lips were cold and thin, but neither cared. Their time was almost up.

* * *

 _May 5, 2003_

Draco did not wake up at all that day. It was also the first day that Hermione did not spend the day in bed with him. She felt it was inappropriate because she knew that Draco would not be waking up anymore. She said in the chair next to the bed, holding his hand and reading. Occasionally she would stare outside the window to gauge the passage of time. They had decided when Draco had become bedridden than that there would be no clocks in the room. They did not want to know what time it was or to guess how much time they had left.

* * *

 _May 6, 2003_

Hermione moved to open the curtains and was startled when she thought Draco had stopped breathing. His chest rose and fell in a much shallower manner than before. As she returned to the chair by his bed, she took his hand and watched him.

In less than a month, she had managed to fall in love with this beautiful man. He was annoying and sarcastic, but he was funny and sharp as well. He had been her childhood enemy, but he had gotten to know him a lot better over the years. She had become his healer after all.

Hermione took a good look at Draco and squeezed his hand. "You did it. You made it more than a month. You beat the odds I gave you. It's okay now. You are free to go."

Draco's chest raised once more and then depressed and did not rise again. He had stopped breathing. In that moment, a massive gust of wind went through the room and blew Hermione's curls. This was followed by a much gentler wind that tickled her cheeks. Draco was really, truly gone.

Hermione stood up and kissed his forehead. "I love you, I always will."


End file.
